


I Saw Krang Kidnapping Santa Claus

by LuckyLadybug



Series: Exit the Fly [10]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 1987)
Genre: Brothers, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Gen, Season/Series 07, Sibling Rivalry, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:51:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8928949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyLadybug/pseuds/LuckyLadybug
Summary: 1987 series, my Exit the Fly verse. Krang decides that a being as powerful as Santa Claus is the perfect solution to raising the Technodrome. Chaos and unexpected developments ensue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The characters are not mine and the story is! Thanks to ThickerThanLove for the eggnog gag and brainstorming on Baxter and Barney and their parents! This is part of my Exit the Fly verse. Baxter is human and an ally of the Turtles. Barney works for Shredder.

_"Next on QVC, something special to brighten your house this Christmas season! This seven-foot, pre-lit tree with detachable sections can be turned into a six-foot or four-foot tree so it can fit into multiple spaces."_

Baxter started as he flew awake. He gave the television screen a blank stare, unable to fully process what he was looking at in his semi-conscious state. When he finally figured out why the two ladies on the screen were dismantling a Christmas tree, he scowled and turned off the television with his remote control.

"I don't remember falling asleep with that channel on," he mumbled. With a sigh he pushed himself off the couch and shuffled towards the bedroom.

It was almost Christmas, but he really wasn't in the celebrating mood. He had never had a really great Christmas with his family, what with Barney loathing him and their parents too busy to notice. They had tried to go through the motions of a holiday celebration, but it had always felt very fake and forced to him. Once he and Barney had moved out and gone their separate ways, there had been very little attempt to celebrate. He had tentatively sent a card for a couple of years, but when Barney hadn't reciprocated he had given up.

This year was bound to be strange. Barney was actively trying to be a supervillain. Their parents were likely now aware of that, and of the fact that Baxter had been the giant fly that had terrorized New York, and had done nothing. There wouldn't be any hope of having any contact with any of them, unless Shredder decided to pull a stunt for Christmas. And that wouldn't be any kind of a merry greeting.

The Turtles and Splinter would be celebrating. The Turtles were intrigued by Christmas. Of course, Michelangelo especially went all-out. He had been decorating the Lair a little more each day, it seemed. Every time Baxter went over for dinner and to tinker with the strange object taken from the Floxy Theatre, Michelangelo had added a new garland or more ornaments to the tree or snowflakes hanging from the ceiling.

They had invited him to join in some of their merry-making, and he had accepted, albeit reluctantly. He was undeniably curious to see how they celebrated the holiday. But he was certain that it would be a bittersweet experience for him, seeing how they enjoyed a family holiday while knowing that his own family would never have that. The Turtles went out of their way to include him, for which he was grateful and touched. And he was certain that if any Christmas was to be happier in any way, it would be this one, with his adopted family. Part of him felt that it was ungrateful for him to want more. But he couldn't help wishing that things could be better between him and Barney and him and their parents.

He paused as he passed by the phone. It was far too late to use it. Normal people could call their parents at any hour of the day, but he hated to think what might happen if he tried that. And what would his mother or father say, no matter when he called? _"So you were really that horrid fly?! Dear, please don't come around or call us. We can't be seen associating with a filthy creature like that. What would our friends say if they knew you were our son? All the clubs would cancel our memberships!"_

He was so confused, really. It was true that by forgetting about the trust fund idea and just putting his money in a regular bank account on the condition he would just come back, it made it seem like they wanted to reconcile and that maybe they had even been worried about him. But then why didn't they respond when he tried to reach out to them? They were both perfectly healthy; he had read about them attending several important social events in the last couple of weeks. It really looked like they were just too busy to really think much about him, just as they always had been. And were they to know about his sordid past and Barney's sordid present, they probably would just want to wash their hands of both of their bizarre children.

Soon he was ready for bed and climbing under the covers. Maybe he would try one more time, but really, he was tired of trying and receiving nothing for his efforts. He had a life in the present with his friends, and he should just focus on that instead of trying to have something he never could. If his parents really didn't want anything to do with him, then he didn't want to keep trying to nose into their lives.

He had always been that way, not wanting to make a nuisance of himself where he wasn't wanted. Barney had scoffed at him for that too. He was too meek and mild and submissive and that was why he had never got anywhere with his inventions, or so Barney had said. Being forceful was the only way to get accepted. Maybe Barney had been right; after all, he had been far more successful where inventions were concerned.

And yet Baxter was the one most people remembered, which had been a source of confusion for both of the brothers. Baxter couldn't figure out why people remembered him more, unless for better or worse he stood out because of his nature. No wonder Barney hated him. Baxter really hadn't wanted to be a social butterfly, though. He had wanted to be seen as a great inventor.

Life really was filled with ironies, he thought as he finally began to doze.

****

The last thing Shredder thought he would see as he wandered into the Technodrome's main control room was the sight of Krang sitting and watching a snowy Christmas scene of Santa Claus flying through the sky on his sleigh past the moon.

"Going through a second childhood, Krang?" Shredder sneered. "Or coming to think of it, did you ever have a first one?"

"Ha ha," Krang scowled. "I'm thinking about something. Can you imagine how much power it would take to lift nine reindeer, a jolly fat man, and a sleigh with a transdimensional goody bag into the sky to fly all over the world?"

"What?!" Shredder stared at his confederate in disbelief. "Santa Claus is a fairytale, Krang. What does it matter how much power he has if he doesn't really exist?!"

"Well, guess what," Krang shot back. "I'm not watching a movie. This is live footage taken by an amateur cameraman in New York following an event where Santa came to the mall."

"That cannot be!" Shredder rushed over to stare more closely at the screen. "It has to be a fraud. You know these amateurs like to pull stunts that will make their videos go viral online."

"Perhaps. But I want this investigated. I'm going to the surface to follow Santa Claus's trail. I want you, Barney, and Bebop and Rocksteady to all come with me. If we find Santa, it could take all of us to subdue him."

"For what purpose?!" Shredder burst out.

"So he will help us raise the Technodrome, of course!" Krang shot back. "Obviously he has enough power that he could do it!"

"I still can hardly believe what I'm hearing," Shredder remarked. "We're all going topside to chase a children's legend."

"We're working on getting back to the surface," Krang retorted. "What does it matter how we do it, if we do it?" He stood and clomped over to a transport module. "Get the others. We don't have a moment to lose!"

"It's too bad we didn't try this when we were stranded in the Arctic," Shredder said sardonically. "We probably weren't far from the North Pole then."

"Always a comedian," Krang grunted.

Knowing there was no hope of convincing him otherwise, Shredder turned and stormed out in frustration.

The first thing that greeted him was a very off-key rendition of Jingle Bells, courtesy of Bebop and Rocksteady. They were in one of the Technodrome's many rooms, decorating a meager Christmas Tree they had stolen from a very picked-over lot.

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, jingle all the way . . ." sang Rocksteady as he hung a shiny dark blue orb on a branch.

Bebop reached for a purple one. "Oh, what fun it is to ride in a . . . hey, what's the next line? I forgot."

"Nevermind, you idiots!" Shredder snarled. "Forget about your decorations and come with me. Krang insists we're all going to the surface to help him with a new plan."

"Oh boy!" Bebop immediately hurried over. "Are we gonna go thrash the Turtles?"

"Yeah!" Rocksteady chimed in. "That would make it a great Christmas for us!"

"No, we're not going to thrash the Turtles, unless they suddenly appear," Shredder retorted. "We're going to go try to kidnap . . . oh, I can't even say it. Go find Krang and he'll tell you what he wants to do."

"Kidnapping! Whoo!" Rocksteady punched the air with a fist. "We're gonna have a lot of fun tonight!"

"Yeah," Bebop echoed. "I hope they'll do a lot of begging."

Shredder just shook his head and walked on past to Barney's laboratory. He knocked loudly and was greeted by what sounded like an entire tray of metal pieces crashing to the floor. "Barney!" he yelled.

Barney opened the door after a moment, looking both frazzled and annoyed. "What is it?" he snapped. "I was right in the middle of building a new idea that came to me."

"You'll have to work on it later," Shredder retorted. "Krang wants you."

"For what?" Barney grunted.

"Ask him, not me!" Shredder snapped. "Now hurry up. He wants to go to the surface immediately!"

"Fine! Just give me a moment to clean up this mess." Barney slammed the door again and knelt on the floor to gather all the fallen objects.

"You don't act much like Shredder's employee," the computer remarked.

"I work for Krang," Barney replied. "Shredder has detested me ever since that first assignment's failure. He's always trying to get in a dig at me, so I reciprocate." He sneered. "It feels good. As long as Krang likes me, I can get away with saying almost anything I want to Shredder."

"You remind me of how much Baxter enjoyed getting back at Shredder over and over again."

"Shredder certainly changed Baxter from what I knew him as." Finally finished with collecting the stray items, Barney straightened and placed the see-through container on one of the tables in the room.

"You have been changing too."

Barney frowned. "How do you mean?"

"Even though you stay, you have been growing increasingly dissatisfied with being a part of Shredder and Krang's operations."

"But I do stay regardless, so that is the most important thing." Barney reached to push the computer motherboard under the work bench. "And I need to go."

"Alright, Barney. But while you're gone, why don't you think about whether you really belong here?"

"Maybe I don't," Barney immediately answered. "But I don't belong anywhere else, either." He shoved the motherboard out of sight and headed for the door.

****

"Isn't this gnarly, Dudes?!" Michelangelo exclaimed, gesturing wildly at the snow-filled Manhattan streets, the decorations and lights on buildings, trees, and poles, and the bustling shoppers. Christmas carols blared from loudspeakers positioned outside the stores, but most people seemed too occupied to stop and listen.

"Eh. It's alright," said Raphael. "I always wonder why people get so caught up in their preparations that they don't remember to actually stop and enjoy the season."

"Just another way that humans don't make much sense," said Donatello.

"I guess humans have a lot they need to do to get ready for the season, though," Leonardo mused. "Since we don't, we can relax and enjoy it a lot easier than they can."

"Exactamundo!" Michelangelo chirped. "And I'm gonna soak in every moment of it! Christmas is totally the best thing about the colder months!"

"Which is what you say every year," Raphael remarked.

"And it's true every year," Michelangelo insisted.

"That guy's sure going all-out to play Santa," Leonardo suddenly commented.

Everyone followed his gaze to where a sleigh pulled by reindeer was descending out of the sky and landing just up ahead on a blocked-off section of the street.

Michelangelo stepped forward in utter and complete awe. "No way," he gasped. "It's gotta be the real thing, Dudes!"

A portal opened up almost directly in front of the sleigh. The reindeer started to paw the ground and buck nervously as dreaded and familiar figures started to emerge.

"Well, whoever that is, he's sure attracted attention from the wrong people!" Leonardo cried. He reached for his katanas. "Even Krang himself came out to play!"

"Then, like, we shouldn't keep him waiting!" Michelangelo grabbed his nunchucks. "We can't let him do anything to Santa Claus!"

"Santa Claus is a scientific impossibility," Donatello argued as he pulled out his bo staff.

"Now where have we heard that before?" Raphael rolled his eyes.

Leonardo led the charge to where they could hear the voices.

"See here, my good . . . Sirs, what is the meaning of this?" boomed a deep and unfamiliar voice. Santa Claus looked from Krang to Bebop and Rocksteady, seeming especially stymied by them.

"We have a little proposition for you," Krang smiled. "We have a vehicle at the bottom of the ocean floor we need to bring to the surface. With your scientific genius, I know we can make it work."

"Of course I'd be happy to help anyone in need," Santa said calmly. "But how did your vehicle get down there in the first place?"

"That's a long and unimportant story," Krang snapped. Then, thinking better of it, he put on his smoothest voice as he continued, "But if you really want to hear it, I'd be more than happy to tell you . . . if you just step this way." He gestured towards the portal.

That was Leonardo's cue to leap over the blockade and up to the group. "Not so fast, Krang!" he cried. Looking to Santa, he said, "Sir, you don't want to go with these characters. They're all supervillains working to bring destruction on the whole planet! We sunk their 'vehicle' during one of their attempts to conquer New York City."

Santa looked back to Krang with narrowed eyes. "Is this true?"

"Of-of course not!" Krang stammered. "Would you really take the word of a giant Turtle?"

"Would I take the word of a talking brain?" Santa answered.

"That's telling 'em, Santa!" Michelangelo exclaimed as he burst onto the scene. Raphael and Donatello soon followed.

Raphael eyed the man with heavy suspicion. "If you're really Old St. Nick, aren't you supposed to already know who's good and who's bad?"

"That's just kids," Michelangelo hissed. "He wouldn't have time to keep tabs on the whole world!"

"But I do like to keep tabs on the children who have grown up," Santa pointed out. "You two I remember." He indicated Bebop and Rocksteady. "You were always characters, even as children."

"Aww, he remembers us!" Rocksteady said as he brushed away a happy tear.

"Yeah!" Bebop exclaimed. "What an honor."

"That's debatable," Raphael quipped. "Considering what he remembers about you."

"Nevermind that!" Shredder snarled. "Anyone could say a few words that might seem to fit. They're just getting lucky when they do!"

Santa looked to him. "I remember you too, Oroku Saki," he proclaimed. "You and your brother were so very different. He was kind and considerate, while you were quite greedy."

Shredder took a step back. ". . . It's still a trick," he said. "I'm notorious. You could have learned my real name from one of the many news stories that's ran about me."

"Oh Shredder, it is not a trick," Krang grumbled.

"And I don't know why you're so all into this," Shredder said, whirling to face Krang. "Usually you're more than a little frustrated any time I want to explore something mystical."

"This isn't mystical," Krang shot back. "It's some kind of science. Santa Claus has to be one of the greatest scientists and physicists on Earth!"

Santa was barely listening to the disagreement. He had taken notice of the last member of their party, the one who had hung back and was silently observing while everyone else stepped forward and took charge of the situation. "Barney?" he asked.

Raphael tensed. "I knew that weasel was probably along!" He gripped his sai tighter. Barney hadn't been seen by Raphael since he had deliberately turned Michelangelo to gold during a fight over an alien philosopher's stone shaped like a golden goose. Raphael wasn't about to forgive him no matter how certain Baxter was that Barney still had good in him.

Barney, meanwhile, just stared at Santa in wary bewilderment. "You know me?"

"Of course I know you," Santa said with a smile that conveyed both gladness to see Barney and sadness to find him in his current surroundings. Looking to Krang he said, "Alright, I will come with you and discuss your current . . . situation, but I can't promise anything."

"Good," Krang purred. "I'm sure you'll see things our way. Especially since we won't let you or your reindeer go until you say Yes," he added in an undertone.

"What?!" Raphael exclaimed. "Wait a minute! This is completely bogus, as Michelangelo would say. You can't go with them! They're all first class crumbs!"

But Santa just smiled at him. "I'll be alright, Raphael. Don't worry about me." And with that he walked through the portal, followed by a bowled-over Shredder and a stunned Barney.

Krang just smirked. "You two bring the sleigh and the reindeer," he ordered Bebop and Rocksteady. "Make sure he has the incentive to stay until he agrees to help us."

"Oh boy!" Bebop exclaimed.

"We get to ride in Santa's sleigh!" Rocksteady chimed in.

Krang headed through the portal, not looking back.

"We can't let them take the sleigh!" Leonardo exclaimed. "And we have to get Santa, or whoever that is, back!" He started to charge with katanas bared.

The reindeer had other ideas. They lifted into the sky with Bebop and Rocksteady aboard.

"Whoa!" Rocksteady yelped. "How do we control this thing?!"

"I don't know, but I wanna get off!" Bebop cried.

The portal closed without them.

Raphael stared up into the sky as the sleigh traveled into the distance. "Okay. Would someone please explain to me what just happened?" He looked back at the other Turtles and the place where the portal had been. "Did we just see a magical runaway sleigh? Not to mention Krang kidnapping Santa Claus?"

"Of course we did!" Michelangelo insisted. "Who else and what else could we have seen?! It was the real deal! And now we've gotta get Santa and the sleigh back or Christmas'll be ruined! Christmas Eve is tomorrow, you know."

"Yeah. Okay." Raphael still didn't look convinced. "If this is going to be some cheesy, heartwarming holiday special, I think I'm backing out now."

"Michelangelo's right," Leonardo said. "We have to rescue that man and recover the sleigh, no matter who or what they are."

"I'd sure like to know what makes that sleigh fly," Donatello declared. "I didn't hear any engines."

"Dude, it's Santa's sleigh," Michelangelo retorted. "You'll never really know what makes it fly, because it's magic!"

"Nevermind what causes it," Leonardo said. "They were flying in the direction of April's apartment building! Let's start there."

The Turtles hurried back to the Van.

****

Burne Thompson was staying late in his office, sampling the eggnog that would be used at the Channel 6 Christmas party the next night. "Ooh, this is good, good, good," he said to himself in approval. "I'll have to ask Irma what her special recipe is."

The sound of jingle bells and terrified screams brought his attention sharply up. What looked like a large sleigh pulled by nine reindeer was flying past his window. Two frightened mutants were clutching at the sides of the sleigh for dear life.

"Mama!" yelped one.

"If you put us down, I promise I'll actually be good this year," the other wailed.

Burne stared back down at the eggnog. "Maybe this is too good," he exclaimed. "I think I'll save the rest for the party. And maybe only have one cup then. A really small cup."

Outside the window, the sleigh flew on past.

****

Within moments, the sleigh had arrived where Leonardo had observed. As it soared past April's apartment building, several lights immediately went on.

"What's going on out here?!" April cried as she threw open her window.

"I don't know, but I wish Santa would drop off a cute guy on the fire escape," Irma said from the next window over.

Above them, Baxter opened his window and leaned down. "That isn't Santa Claus," he objected. "It's Bebop and Rocksteady!"

"Bebop and Rocksteady?!" Irma cried.

"You're right!" April gasped. "Oh, if only I had my mini-cam!"

"It must be some new evil plot of Shredder's!" Irma decided. "Maybe Bebop and Rocksteady are pretending to be Santa to rob people!"

"They aren't run-of-the-mill thieves," Baxter pointed out. "If they are trying to steal from someone, it has to be very specific. Shredder wouldn't waste his time robbing from just anyone."

"You're right," April realized.

"And here's another point. If they can't lift the Technodrome from the ocean floor, how on Earth did they succeed in getting that sleigh and all those animals to rise?"

April's eyes widened. "You're not saying that maybe that could really be . . ."

"Of course I'm not!" Baxter retorted. "I just don't think Shredder is behind it. More than likely, he had Bebop and Rocksteady steal the sleigh from someone!"

"I think I'd better call the Turtles," April declared. She disappeared from the window to retrieve her Turtle-Comm.

"I still wish I could get a cute guy," Irma sighed, crossing her arms on the windowsill. "Even if Bebop and Rocksteady would be the ones dropping him off."

"I am not going to dignify that with a response," said Baxter.

****

Krang was not in a good mood back on the Technodrome. "Your idiot mutants couldn't even get the sleigh to come through the portal when it was right in front of them!" he caterwauled.

"Why are they always my idiot mutants when something goes wrong?!" Shredder shot back. "I couldn't have created them without your mutagen! And anyway, we still have the upper hand. This . . . man is trapped here while Bebop and Rocksteady have his sleigh and gifts outside! Christmas is still ruined. If he really is . . . you-know-who." He scowled.

"Oh ye of little faith," Krang warbled.

Santa just stepped back, shaking his head. "How strange to hear such a character quoting the Bible," he commented to Barney, who shrugged.

"My impression of Krang is that he thoroughly researches the planets he wants to conquer. At any rate, he knows a great deal about Earth life. And I don't care one way or another what he quotes."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't," Santa conceded. "But what do you care about?"

Barney looked away. "I don't confide in anyone about me. I don't intend on starting now."

Santa paused, regarding him in thoughtfulness. "Perhaps not," he agreed. "The one you do confide in isn't even human."

That caused Barney to whip around sharply, his hair flying with the motion. "How do you know that?!" he demanded. "For that matter, how do you know my name?!"

Santa just smiled. "Are you as disbelieving as Oroku Saki?"

"I'm a scientist," Barney frowned. "I deal in logic and facts. There is no conceivable way for a being such as Santa Claus to exist."

"Alright," Santa said agreeably. "Then don't think of me as Santa Claus, if that makes you feel better. Think of me as someone else who has done a great deal of research on Earth life and the individuals who inhabit it."

"Hmph." Barney folded his arms and started to turn away. After a moment he spoke, still not looking at the large man. ". . . It was nice, to not be called 'Baxter' for once."

"You always wanted your own identity," said Santa. "That's perfectly understandable; everyone longs to be recognized for who they are, not for who they are not."

". . . I'm the older brother," Barney mused after a moment. "Of course, only by a few minutes. But I was always proud to claim that title. I felt I was smarter and wiser than Baxter and his meekly pathetic personality." His lip curled. "I used to think that Baxter shouldn't have even existed. Twins are genetically the same person, after all. I felt it should have only been me. Instead, he had to come into the picture too."

"Regardless of twins' genetic makeup, you and your brother are two very separate and distinct individuals," Santa said. "You say you 'used' to think that Baxter shouldn't have existed. You changed your mind?"

Barney's shoulders slumped. "He was always in my way. Always where I wanted to be. He was the first to be actively interested in science, for one thing. Then when I showed an interest too, everyone thought I was just copying him. So did he." He scowled. "That arrogant, self-centered brat! As if everything always revolved around him!"

"Is that what you wanted for yourself?"

"I just wanted a piece of his spotlight." Barney clenched his teeth. "I never had it."

"Perhaps he never wanted or meant to take anything away from you."

"Oh, he didn't," Barney laughed. "That's what makes everything worse and makes me look like a supreme villain." He stabbed himself in the chest with a finger for emphasis. "Poor, abused Baxter Stockman. Everyone felt sorry for him. Any time I tried to take what was rightfully mine, I made myself look like a sore loser and him look like an even more wonderful being than before."

"Was it rightfully yours?" Santa spoke kindly, thoughtfully, not pushing or moralizing, but as though prompting Barney to really think.

Barney sighed in resignation. "No. Not if to try to get it, I had to try to hurt Baxter and get him out of the way. Like the time I actually tried to knock him unconscious before a big presentation to disqualify him when he didn't show up. It didn't work; he only drank a small amount of the coffee before he realized something was wrong with it."

"And as I recall, he didn't even bring the matter to the judges' attention, did he?" Santa said gently.

"No, he didn't," Barney admitted. "He just quietly took the mug with him and analyzed the contents to make an antidote in case I tried that again." He scowled. "I may be the older brother, but I've very rarely acted like it. Even when Baxter did things like that and let me off the hook, he frustrated me. It felt like he was being so good to my so bad. And it made him look like a doormat. It was so ironic. . . . I was angry because I knew he was going to get hurt. And hardly anyone hurt him anywhere as much as I did, other than Shredder and Krang. I scolded him and told him he shouldn't let anyone walk all over him, even his brother. I guess . . . eventually, he learned that lesson." He sounded helpless now, even regretful. "I wonder if I've hated him because I hate myself. I know that I've done wrong. Whenever he did something good, it only drove home that I wasn't like that at all. I could never be like that."

"Why not?"

The question was so simple, so matter-of-fact, that Barney turned and regarded Santa in disbelief. "Because I'm not good!" he insisted. "You've seen what we've done. You know what I'm capable of!"

"I know that you are capable of making terrible mistakes, as everyone does at some point in their lives. And I know that when you do and someone is hurt, you try to fix it." Santa looked firmly into Barney's eyes. "Not everyone does that."

That look and Santa's insistence rattled Barney. He stepped back and looked away. "I tried to kill my brother," he protested. "I attacked his friends and him with a spider robot that he invented. I turned one of his friends to gold right in front of his eyes!" He looked back, his eyes flashing. "It doesn't matter if I regret it. I knew what I was doing and I knew I shouldn't be doing it. There is no forgiveness for what I've done! None."

Santa wasn't ruffled or even surprised by Barney's outburst. Really, he looked as though he had quite expected it. "Is that why you stay here?" he asked. "Because you feel that with other villains is where you should be?"

Stunned, Barney stared at him. "I . . . I don't know. Originally it was because I was wanted. Me, and not Baxter. Then it was because I had all the resources I needed for my inventions. Now, I . . . I just don't know anymore. But I know it doesn't matter," he added bitterly.

"The worth of a soul always matters," said Santa. "You have committed wrong acts, Barney, but you still have a great deal of good within you. The longer you stay here and immerse yourself in the evil acts of these people, the more your goodness may become buried deeper in your heart and soul. Is that really what you want?"

Barney flinched. "Is it what anyone wants?" he said bitterly. "Hell is where the bad go, even if they do have some goodness left in them. They've dug their own graves with their bare hands. It's all they deserve."

"Hell is for the dead," Santa replied. "You still have a chance of escaping that fate."

"There are many Hells," Barney answered. "If you don't know that, then you must be a childishly naive Santa Claus only fit for childishly naive Christmas specials."

"I know it very well," Santa said with solemnity. "I have lived longer than you could possibly imagine and I have seen humanity struggle and progress through many centuries and countless generations. I have seen many like you fall. And I have seen many like your brother rise. You have been bitter and hateful because your brother was seemingly always the one most recognized and most sought-after. You really had no control over whether people were interested in your or your brother's inventions. Neither did he. But in the matter of your paths in life, you certainly have control over whether or not you travel down an ill-fated road. Why allow your brother to outshine you on a matter such as this? Prove that you can take a path of decency as well as he can. In that case, you will both be winners."

Barney opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no more answers, no arguments that he hadn't already given.

Suddenly the room was very quiet. Shredder and Krang had been arguing during the time Santa and Barney had been conversing, but their problems had run dry as well. Both were now looking over at Santa and Barney.

"Well?" Krang asked. "Have you managed to convince our distinguished guest of the necessity of helping us raise the Technodrome?"

Barney looked at Krang as though he was speaking a foreign language. "No," he retorted. "I don't think any of us will manage to convince him of anything."

"How unfortunate," said Krang. "Then we will all be here much longer. Through Christmas, most likely."

Santa just smiled. "I wouldn't be too sure of that."

Shredder gave him a suspicious look. "You know something," he accused. "What is it? Are you expecting someone to come rescue you? A contingent of elves, perhaps? Or the reindeer?"

"We shall see," Santa answered.

****

The sleigh was still flying back and forth in the vicinity of the apartment building when the Turtles arrived. By now Rocksteady was flying off the sleigh and clutching the side for dear life. Bebop was desperately trying to steer the reindeer with the reins, without much success.

"Whoa!" he cried. "Come on, whoa! Go down! Something!"

"Check it out, Dudes," Michelangelo said, leaning out of the Turtle Van's window. "The reindeer have gone majorly nutzoid!"

"Wouldn't you, if Bebop and Rocksteady were trying to control you?" Raphael smirked.

Michelangelo hopped out, swinging his grappling hook over his head. "We've gotta bring them down! Santa won't have anything to deliver if the sleigh gets away!"

Still watching from the window, Baxter frowned and folded his arms. "And just how do you expect to bring it down with that? All of those animals are certainly stronger than you!"

"I have to try something!" Michelangelo answered. "Hey, maybe they'll realize I'm one of the good guys and just come on down!"

The hook caught on one of the runners. Suddenly Michelangelo was flying off the ground with a shocked yelp. The other Turtles leaped out of the Van, staring up at him in alarm.

"Michelangelo!" Leonardo cried.

"Well, he's finally done it," said Raphael. "He's flipped."

"We have to do something!" Donatello exclaimed.

"And it has to be done fast!" April burst out. "They're going to hit that building!"

Michelangelo swung away from the edifice just as the sleigh switched directions again. "Whoa, Dancer! Whoa, Dasher!" he called in desperation. He started to climb up the rope, hand over hand, until he was at the top and reaching to pull himself into the sleigh.

"I don't think you're going to have any luck," Bebop said, looking over at Michelangelo as he climbed in on the backseat. "These reindeer just ain't cooperating for anybody."

"You guys sure must have made them mad," Michelangelo retorted. "Let me try."

"Here. You go right ahead." Bebop handed Michelangelo the reins and slid over to try to pull Rocksteady aboard.

Michelangelo swallowed hard. "On Dasher, On Dancer! And all you other guys! Come on, I'm not trying to steal you from Santa! Go down, will you?! Stop!"

But the reindeer were apparently out of control. Nothing Michelangelo said made any difference.

Leonardo was already running up the fire escape. "We have to help Michelangelo bring that sleigh down!" he insisted.

"Hey, it's the bag that's supposed to be bottomless, not the sleigh," Raphael retorted. "We're not all going to fit inside!"

"Everyone take a reindeer and try to calm it!" Leonardo answered. Upon arriving at the roof, he waited for the sleigh to come in close enough range before leaping onto the lead reindeer's back. It snorted and tried to shake him without success.

Raphael and Donatello looked at each other. "Oh well. I guess what's good for the goose is good for the gander," Raphael shrugged. He leaped onto the next closest reindeer, while Donatello took the third. The sleigh started to dip.

"Hey, maybe it's working," Michelangelo hoped. "If we can't reason them down, maybe we can just weigh them down!"

"Then I'm afraid we'll need more weight," Donatello said in concern. "They're just bound and determined to stay up!"

"There isn't anybody else!" Raphael shot back. "Not unless the girls and Baxter want to give it a try!"

"What?! No way!" Irma cried in horror. "Me, get up there and ride on that?!" She gestured wildly at a snorting reindeer.

"I'll give it a go!" April chirped. She hurried out on the fire escape and climbed to the roof.

Baxter regarded her in exasperated disbelief. "You are highly daring, Miss O'Neil! Not to mention reckless. You're going to become the news instead of reporting it!"

April jumped when the sleigh came closer, landing on one very displeased reindeer. "Whoa!" It bucked and jerked and she fell forward, hugging its thick neck. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all!"

"You think?" said Irma.

"This is ridiculous," Baxter objected. "Listen to me. The reindeer apparently only started acting out when Bebop and Rocksteady tried to take the sleigh. Most likely, they will not calm down until Bebop and Rocksteady get out."

"We can't!" Rocksteady protested.

"If the sleigh is close enough for someone to jump on, it's close enough for someone to jump off," Baxter replied. "The next time it passes near a roof, take advantage of it and get off!"

"You know, that's sure worth a try," Donatello said.

Bebop gulped. "That's easy for you to say!"

Donatello clutched his reindeer's harness for dear life. "You think this is easy?!"

The sleigh swooped close to the building again. Desperate to get off, Rocksteady sprang into action. "Come on, Bebop! Getting this thing back to the Technodrome ain't worth all the misery!" He jumped off the side of the sleigh.

Bebop swallowed hard, staring at the ground below them. But then, knowing Rocksteady was right, he took the plunge. "Mama!" he yelped.

Both criminal mutants landed safely on the roof. "Gangway!" Rocksteady growled, making a beeline for the fire escape.

No one tried to stop him and Bebop. They were much too busy focusing on the sleigh and its furry drivers. With Bebop and Rocksteady gone, the reindeer seemed to instantaneously calm down. They descended quietly and lightly to the ground. Everyone breathed an immense sigh of relief.

"Whew." Donatello slumped back. "I'm glad that's over!"

"Over?!" Michelangelo retorted. "Like, we've still gotta rescue Santa, Dudes!"

Baxter gave Michelangelo a Look. "You have to what?" He disappeared from the window and soon appeared on the fire escape. As he descended, he met Irma on the second-story landing and they continued the rest of the way down.

"I think Michelangelo has finally, really flipped," Irma proclaimed.

"Hey, we all saw it!" Michelangelo defended.

"What we saw was Krang and company kidnapping a man they apparently believed to be Santa Claus," Donatello said. "That doesn't prove he really was."

"Oh yeah? Then how do you explain all this?!" Michelangelo cried with a wild gesture at the sleigh and reindeer.

"This could be a highly technologically advanced prop for a Christmas movie," Donatello said. "Or a live show."

"Okay, okay!" Michelangelo shot back. "But whoever the dude is, Krang and company kidnapped him! So we need to rescue him, right?"

"Michelangelo's right," said Leonardo. "If that man really isn't Santa Claus, it could get especially dangerous for him if or when Krang realizes it."

"And if he is?" Raphael retorted.

"Then . . . I don't know," Leonardo admitted. "He'll still be in danger, even if he has all the powers Santa Claus is supposed to have." He started to head for the Turtle Van. "Let's go before any more time goes by."

"Wait for me, guys!" April pleaded, climbing down from her reindeer. "I'll get dressed and come with you! Rescuing Santa Claus on Christmas Eve . . . stories don't come much more Christmassy than this!" She hiked up her flowing pink nightgown and hurried inside.

Raphael exhaled in exasperation. "How are we even going to get into the Technodrome, O Fearless Leader?" He looked to Leonardo. "The last time we had to do that, we were able to use a transport module."

"Maybe Donatello can get his portal working again?" Leonardo looked hopefully to Donatello, who took a step back in dismay.

"Even I finally gave up on that thing!" he cried.

Baxter sighed. "Maybe if we work on it together, we can get it going just long enough to go through one way? I could monitor your progress and you could commandeer Krang's portal or a transport module to get back to the surface if Donatello's portal gives out."

"I guess that's possible," Donatello slowly conceded. "It's probably our best chance."

Irma looked exhausted. "Well, you boys are going to be occupied for a while. I think I'm going back to bed."

"Aww, come on, Irma," Raphael quipped. "Don't you want to be in on the most Christmassy story of all?"

"I'm sure I'll hear all about it on the news tomorrow," Irma said. "Anyway, in case you forgot, I'm Jewish."

"Irma probably just doesn't want to get in danger," Raphael said. "And really, who can blame her?"

"I can think of a lot of more pleasant ways to spend the holidays," Irma acknowledged. She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Of course I don't want that guy to be in danger, whoever he is, but you guys and even April are better-suited to saving him."

"I can't deny that," said Raphael. He looked to Baxter. "Are you planning to run around New York late at night dressed like that?"

Baxter glanced down at his nightshirt and slippers in exasperation. "No." He went back up the fire escape to his apartment.

Raphael shook his head. "What a crew. I tell you, this is going to be the most off-the-wall Christmas Eve ever."

"You mean the most bodacious!" Michelangelo chirped. "This is gonna be totally righteous! We're gonna rescue Santa Claus!"

"We're going to try," Donatello emphasized. "I don't even know if we can get the portal working again!"

"If anyone can, it's you and Baxter," Leonardo said. "I'm sure you can do it."

Irma paused and turned back. "Hey, I just thought of something. What are you going to do with this sleigh while you're off rescuing Santa Claus or whoever?"

The Turtles looked at each other. "That's a good point," Leonardo realized. "We can't take it into the Lair."

"Would you watch it for us, Irma?" Donatello asked. "If you're going to be here anyway."

"What?!" Irma's eyes widened. But then she sighed in resignation. "Okay, I'll do it. But I draw the line at cleaning up after the reindeer."

"You know," Michelangelo mused, "no one ever talks about that being a problem. Maybe Christmas reindeer are trained better than that."

"Let's hope so," Raphael quipped. "Otherwise, Santa might get fined for parking his reindeer here."

****

The Technodrome's occupants were still all wide awake on the early Christmas Eve morning. Bebop and Rocksteady had returned and resumed decorating their tree, albeit they had switched to singing songs about Santa Claus. Barney was sitting at a table with a nondescript object and a screwdriver, while Krang was pacing up and down the control room and Shredder was fuming more and more as Santa simply sat on an old metal crate and showed no signs of breaking. The jolly old man folded his arms, humming Silent Night to himself and not seeming particularly concerned about his current state.

Barney finally set the screwdriver down and turned to look. "How strange and ironic, to hear the symbol of the secular part of Christmas singing about the religious part," he commented.

"I never wanted to crowd out the 'religious part,' as you put it," Santa replied. "My purpose was always to glorify and bring attention to the first Christmas and the Baby Jesus. It was some of the participants in the holiday who decided to change things."

Shredder turned and looked at him, his lip curled behind the mask. "You make it sound like you were there when the change happened. Don't tell us you're actually the original Santa Claus, St. Nicholas, centuries later," he sneered.

"Alright, I won't tell you," Santa smiled.

Shredder whirled to look at the still-pacing Krang. "I've had enough of this sideshow! This senile old man won't do anything to help us, even if he could! You continue with your ridiculous attempts if you wish. I am going to bed!"

Krang stopped pacing and looked up at him. "Very well," he gurgled. "But you have brought me many unbelievable things and expected me to be enthusiastic about them."

"That's different," Shredder retorted. "Those are objects of incredible power, not people."

"Same difference," Krang shot back.

"You're both hypocrites," Barney flatly inserted.

Shredder scowled. "You watch your mouth, you miserable failure."

"So says the biggest failure of us all," Barney sneered.

Krang chortled. "How poetically spoken."

"Don't forget he called you a hypocrite too," Shredder snapped as he stormed out of the room.

"I didn't forget," Krang called after him. Looking to Barney he said, "You probably have a point, but I really don't care right now. I just want it impressed on our guest that Christmas will be ruined if he doesn't cooperate."

"Oh?" Santa calmly answered. "And it won't be ruined if I help turn you loose on New York City and then the world?" Not waiting for a reply, he went on, "Christmas will proceed whether or not I have anything to do with it. Thinking this will ruin it shows your complete lack of understanding of what Christmas is truly about."

"Bah!" Krang boomed. "Christmas is about sentimental sop and icky family togetherness. But most of all, it's about presents!" His eyes gleamed. "Getting more and more and more! And without you to deliver, a lot of kids won't get anything for Christmas!" He walked past, laughing hysterically to himself.

Barney leaned on the table with one elbow. "He's had many visitors tortured for information or cooperation," he said. "You're lucky he doesn't try that with you. Apparently he thinks that making you worry about the future of Christmas is the worst torture he could put on you."

"He doesn't torture me because he's afraid," Santa replied. "He knows I have tremendous power and he doesn't want to risk what might happen if he tried to physically harm me."

"If you really had that much power, you could get out of here any time you wanted," Barney objected.

Santa just smiled, a twinkle in his eye.

"I saw Krang kidnapping Santa Claus," Rocksteady sang from the next room.

"Uh . . . on a snowy New York street tonight," Bebop continued.

"Why don't you work your psychology on those two imbeciles for a while?" Barney asked. "You got me to confess to many things I'd vowed to never tell anyone. It would be interesting to see what you could get out of them."

Santa nodded. "I think I will." He stood in resolution. "You just think on our conversation for a while."

"I have to finish this." Barney turned back to the object on the table.

"Very well." Santa headed out of the room, calm and knowing. Barney just scowled, muttering to himself.

****

"There." Donatello leaned back, eyeing the portal in wary concern. "I think that's about the best we can do on short notice. Maybe if we had weeks to work on it we could do more."

"But we don't!" Michelangelo exclaimed. "We have to rescue Santa Claus, like, right now!"

Donatello and Baxter exchanged a look. "Well, here goes," Donatello said. Together they pulled the switch. The portal activated, but the screen jumped. It was unstable.

"Be careful, my students," Splinter said as he stood by. "You will likely have to commandeer a transport module to come back."

"We'll see." Leonardo came forward in determination. "Thank you, Master Splinter. We'll go in there and get that man and be back before you know it!"

"And I'll record the whole thing!" April said with delight.

"I still don't like the thought of you being along, April," Leonardo said. "Who knows what could go wrong on the Technodrome!"

"You wouldn't deny me my Christmas present, would you?" April pleaded.

Leonardo heaved a sigh. "Oh, alright. Let's just go." He hurried through to the other side, both katanas bared.

"Well, here goes nothing," said Raphael. "You and Master Splinter keep an eye on things, Baxter." He grabbed his sai and rushed in.

"Alright! Operation Rescue Santa, here we go!" Michelangelo cried, spinning his nunchucks above his head. "Cowabunga!" He dashed inside.

Donatello shook his head. "Come on, April." He gripped his bo and walked through the portal.

"Goodbye, you two," April said to Baxter and Splinter.

"Be careful, April," said Splinter.

"Don't worry about me," April insisted. "I'll be fine."

Baxter got up to adjust the screen as she went through. "I still don't know what to think about any of this," he muttered, half to himself. "I don't even know if we have the right frequency to enter the Technodrome." He reached to turn a knob.

He never was sure exactly what happened. He really had no memory of tripping; he always tried to be supremely careful around delicate and unstable inventions. But somehow he was suddenly falling through the portal with a shocked cry as Splinter called after him in concern.

The crash was hard, but he wasn't hurt. He winced as he sat up. "What . . ."

He was in a deserted corridor of what was apparently the Technodrome. Slowly he pulled himself up, unable to fully quell the fear in his heart at not just being here, but being here alone. He didn't dare call for the others; he might bring their enemies down on him or them. Instead he started to wander the hall, muttering in frustration to himself.

"Clumsy oaf!" he scolded. "You never do learn, do you? That was one of your worse spills yet!" He still didn't remember tripping. But how else could he have got there?

He stopped in front of a closed door at the end of the corridor. Beyond the hallway, the space opened into a bigger room. The sounds of Bebop and Rocksteady singing about Santa Claus being kidnapped made him press himself against the door, not wanting to be seen. But he inadvertently applied too much pressure; the door slid open and he fell through, shocked. When he was unceremoniously on the floor, it closed again.

"Ow!" He sat up, staring at the door in dismay. "Every time I come here, horrible things happen to me."

"Baxter?! Is that you, old buddy?!"

Baxter jumped a mile. "Who's there?!" He leaped to his feet. The room was empty. Or at least, it was devoid of any human or mutant life. The voice was familiar to him, even though he hadn't heard it since before he had returned to being human. But it couldn't really be . . . could it?

"Baxter . . . don't you remember me?"

At last Baxter pinpointed the sound as coming from the table next to him. He went over, pulling a scorched computer motherboard out from under a workbench. "It's you," he whispered in disbelief. "Of course I remember you. But I thought . . . I thought you were gone."

"I was still here after the explosion," the computer answered. "Krang had Bebop and Rocksteady clean up the mess from the damaged console and put the pieces in this old laboratory he didn't use. I've been here since then." It hesitated. "Barney said you're human again. Is that true?"

"Yes." Baxter slumped back, staring at his old friend in shock and amazement. All this time he had thought it had been destroyed, but it had been here, lonely again and waiting. . . .

"Wait. Barney?" Baxter frowned. "You've talked with my brother?"

"Krang gave him this laboratory when he first came here," the computer told him. "I thought he was you at first. He sounded almost identical to you."

Baxter sank into the chair at the table. "And he didn't tell me. He never told me you were here, and alright . . . or as alright as you could be, at this point."

"I wanted him to tell you. He wanted to keep me to himself."

"Of course he did," Baxter muttered, bitter and hurt.

"Baxter, I'm so glad you're alright," the computer said. "I wish I could see you. . . . I don't even know what you look like."

"Barney could have put you in a new computer hard drive," Baxter frowned. "Instead he just left you here, like this."

"He didn't want Krang or Shredder to find out about me," the computer explained.

"I could get you out of here," Baxter said, getting to his feet. "You could come back to the surface with me and be with me in my apartment."

"I'd like that, Baxter. Only . . ." It hesitated. "I don't know that I should leave Barney. He often blows off steam by talking to me. I'm a friend for him here. I think it would hurt him for me to go."

"It hurts me that he didn't even bother to tell me about you," Baxter retorted. "And you shouldn't have to stay just to be his doormat."

"It wouldn't be just for that," the computer replied. "Barney is my friend now, too."

"Well, I think we should talk to Barney before any decisions are made about you staying or going." Baxter started to slip the motherboard into his lab coat pocket.

"If you take me, he will probably just count it as something else you've taken from him," the computer warned. "It will make the problems between the two of you even worse."

"I'm tired of him blaming me for everything!" Baxter finally burst out. "Almost everything he says I did was never intentional! I couldn't even help most of it! Yes, I still care about him and even believe that he still has good in him, but that doesn't mean I should have to put up with his cruel and hateful accusations! I long ago grew tired of being everyone's doormat. I won't be that again for anyone, even or especially him!"

"I'm glad you feel that way, Baxter. You shouldn't let anyone walk all over you. But when you've been innocent of the majority of Barney's accusations, do you really want to be guilty of one of them?"

Baxter paused. Those words reached him. ". . . I don't want to be what he thinks I am," he admitted at last. He took the motherboard out of his pocket and looked sadly at it. "But I don't want to leave you here."

"You have other friends now. You don't need me. I think Barney does."

Baxter could hear the conflicted inflection in the computer's voice. It wanted to go with Baxter, yet it didn't want Barney to be hurt. And with things as they currently were, it didn't seem possible for both to happen.

". . . You're right," Baxter said. "I don't need you like I did when I didn't have anyone else. But friendship shouldn't be based only on need. You were my friend when I did need you, and I still care about you. I want better for you than this."

"Maybe someday, if Barney finally decides to leave. . . . He said he'd get me out of here if that day comes."

"I still hope it will," Baxter said. "But the other part of me finds it more and more difficult to believe." He hesitated again, but finally laid the motherboard under the workbench where he had found it. ". . . You've changed. There was a time when you would have encouraged me to unleash my angry feelings and take you out of here."

"And maybe I would have now, if I didn't care about Barney as well as you. Hearing his perspective in addition to yours gives me a lot to think about. I've never had to try playing mediator before."

Baxter slowly nodded. "That would change one's outlook.

"I'll try to come back and see you again before I leave, but I don't know if I can. I came here with my other friends and they might be in trouble."

"You should go find them," the computer encouraged. "It's alright if you have to go and can't make it back here again. I'm just glad I was able to talk to you one more time, old pal."

"I'm glad as well," said Baxter. "Take care of Barney. I know he really does need a friend, and he won't accept me as one."

"I'll do my best."

Baxter left the laboratory in a conflict of emotions. He was happy that the computer was alright. He was furious and hurt that Barney hadn't bothered to tell him. He was humbled and sobered to realize that what he had told the computer was true. It was his friend. And like Donatello had surmised, it really seemed to be alive and thinking for itself. It wasn't just an inanimate object.

He steeled himself as he cautiously peered around the corner. The last thing he wanted was to suddenly be clobbered by Bebop or Rocksteady in one of their rare competent moments.

Instead he found them staring as the Turtles and April ran up from another direction. "Oh no!" Bebop scowled. "Can't you guys leave us alone on a holiday?"

"Maybe we could, if you hadn't kidnapped someone!" Leonardo retorted, pointing his katana at him. "Let him go!"

Santa Claus, or whoever, had been sitting on a crate and apparently watching Bebop and Rocksteady decorate a tree. Now he stood, smiling at the newcomers. "It's alright, Leonardo," he greeted. "There's no need to fight today. Why not declare a Christmas truce?"

"If they won't try to stop us from taking you back, Sir," Leonardo said.

"We have to stop you!" Rocksteady protested. "That's what we're supposed to do!"

"There's nothing any of you can say or do to persuade me to help you," Santa replied. "The Shredder knows that. And deep down, I believe Krang does as well. Anyway . . ." He smiled. "No one was holding me here. I came quite of my own free will. I could have left any time I wanted."

Leonardo paused and blinked. "You could?"

"Am I missing something here?" Raphael frowned. "If you could leave, why the heck would you stay?!"

"I wanted to try to reach out to whatever goodness was left in these people," Santa said, looking to Barney as he appeared in the doorway. "I would have been remiss not to try."

"Awww, ain't that just like Santa Claus?" Rocksteady exclaimed. "He really cares about us!"

"It's so touching," Bebop sniffled.

"Yeah. Well, I'm sure he didn't have any luck with any of you," Raphael retorted.

"We'll see," said Santa. To Bebop and Rocksteady he continued, "Just tell your employers that I departed and none of you could do a thing about it. There's no need to mention anything else."

"I guess he's got a point," Bebop said.

Rocksteady nodded. "Okay, we'll try it!" he chirped. "Just because it's you, Santa."

"So, what do we do now?" Raphael wondered. "Call Master Splinter and see if the portal's still working for him to bring us back?"

The Turtle-Comm beeped. "I am afraid it is already too late for that," Splinter said. "It shut down moments after Dr. Stockman fell through."

"Well, that's just great," Raphael sighed. Then, fully processing what Splinter said, he said, "Wait a minute! Baxter's here?!"

"He should be," Splinter frowned in concern.

"Oh no." Donatello looked around worriedly. "He didn't end up with us. I'll have to try reaching him on his Turtle-Comm."

"Baxter is alright," Santa interjected. "He'll be along."

"How do you know?" Leonardo frowned.

"Hey, come on, Dude," Michelangelo protested. "He's Santa. Of course he'd know!"

Leonardo sighed. "Let's not start that again. Although I guess you do have a point, Michelangelo."

Baxter was just about to step out and assure them he was fine when Barney came farther into the room. "I don't know if you'll be able to get Krang's portal working again to go back," he said. "If you take a transport module, I won't stop you. There wouldn't be any point."

"I wouldn't trust any transport module that you've okayed us to take," Raphael snapped. "It'd probably blow up when it reached the surface!"

"Hey, lighten up, Raphael," Michelangelo said. "I'm sure he wouldn't actually kill us."

"Are you crazy?!" Raphael looked to him with flashing eyes. "He tried to kill his own brother. Worse, he turned you to gold! What could be more of a death than that?!"

"One that couldn't be reversed," Michelangelo answered. "Hey, I don't like what he did, that's for sure. But he figured I would still be okay from it."

"He knew that we'd get hurt with that spider robot," Donatello frowned. "But even then he didn't want to finish us off himself." He looked warily at Barney. "I sure don't like you, and I don't blame Raphael for not trusting you. I don't really trust you either. But maybe you don't want to be a murderer. Still, I'd rather try to get the portal working and leave through that."

"Be my guest." Barney gestured at the next room.

Now Baxter decided to make his presence known. "Barney won't try to harm you," he said as he walked in. "At least, not the way you're worrying he will."

"Baxter?!" Everyone spun around. "You were supposed to be monitoring things back in the Lair!"

"I know." Baxter sighed, embarrassed. "I don't know how I wound up here."

Santa just smiled.

Barney looked at him, wary now himself. "You weren't with the others. Where have you been?"

"Around," Baxter said vaguely.

"I've got the portal open!" Donatello called. "We need to go right now before we're caught."

"Okay." Leonardo held onto his katanas as he hurried into the next room. "Let's go, everyone. Sir, you should go first." He looked to Santa.

"I'll be fine," said Santa. "You start going ahead. I'll be right with you."

"You'd better, after we went to all this trouble to save you," said Raphael.

"You wouldn't consider giving me an exclusive interview when we get back, would you, Mr. Claus?" April asked hopefully.

"I'm sure I'd have time for a few questions," Santa smiled.

"Wonderful!" April exclaimed. "This really is going to be the most incredible Christmas story I've reported on!"

Barney glanced at Santa before stepping closer to Baxter. ". . . Tell me something," he said low. "Do you care about that old computer of yours?"

Baxter looked to him with a start. "Yes, I do," he said without hesitation.

"Then you should know it wasn't destroyed. It's here on the Technodrome."

"I know it is," Baxter told him. "I found it right before I came in here."

Barney rocked back, stunned. "You didn't say anything about it!"

"I wanted to," Baxter replied. "I wanted to take it out of here. It wanted to come with me, too. But at the same time, it didn't want to leave you. It's worried about you."

Barney regarded him in disbelief. "Worried about me?!"

"Everyone can see what you're doing to yourself, Barney," Baxter said in frustrated impatience. "I can see it. This man Krang kidnapped can see it. A computer can see it! Why can't you?"

Barney didn't acknowledge that. "You'd better go," he said. "Your friends are waiting for you."

"I'm going." Baxter turned to the portal, then paused. "Thank you, for finally telling me. Merry Christmas, Brother."

Barney still didn't answer at first. But then quietly, as Baxter was leaving, he whispered, "Merry Christmas."

Santa laid a hand on Barney's shoulder. "You made a step in the right direction," he said kindly. "I still have faith in you, Barney."

"I wish I did," Barney muttered as he watched everyone leave.

He retreated to his laboratory before the escape could be discovered. "You had a chance to leave this place and you chose to stay," he said to the computer while pulling it out. "Why?"

"I didn't want you to be here alone," the computer said. "Loneliness is a terrible thing, Barney."

"I wouldn't have been alone," Barney said. "There's others around."

"But no one for you to really talk to."

Barney looked down. That was true.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For caring about me that much. You put your own happiness aside for me."

"I wouldn't be truly happy knowing you were here alone. And I know you don't want to hear it, but you should thank Baxter too," said the computer.

"I know," Barney muttered. "I know. And I should tell him I'm sorry. Only . . . sorry is never good enough. Not for the pain I've caused him."

"No, but it's a start."

"Yes," Barney mused. "I guess it is." He leaned back. "Maybe I'll tell him. Maybe."

"I wish the two of you could get along," said the computer.

"We never did as children. Why should it be any different now?"

"People can change."

"Oh, we've done plenty of that." Barney leaned back. "I hate Baxter more now than I did when we were five."

The computer sighed. "Oh Barney. . . ."

Barney sighed too. "When that man talked to me, I blurted things I've never told anyone, including you. I don't know how he managed to drag it all out of me so effortlessly. Part of me doesn't like the fact that someone else knows my darkest thoughts now. The other part almost finds it a relief."

"What are you going to do?"

"Right now, I am going to bed." Barney set the motherboard down and stood up. "But if you're wondering whether he convinced me to leave, no, he didn't. But at least he gave me something to think about."

"At least that's something."

"If you want to think of it that way." Barney hesitated. "I've been thinking I should have a computer. What if I custom-make one and use you as the motherboard?"

"I would be whole again?!" The computer sounded excited, delighted. But then reality set in and it asked, "What about Krang and Shredder? They wanted me, once upon a time."

"As long as you only talk to me when they're not around, they won't know it's you," Barney said. "I could make you into a laptop so I could easily take you anywhere."

"I would like that," said the computer.

"Then I'll do it," Barney promised. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas. You know, I've never celebrated an Earth holiday before."

"Christmas is the best one to start with," Barney said.

"Isn't it a family holiday?"

"Most holidays are. We'll be a family this year." And Barney smirked to himself. He had just called a computer his family. He wasn't sure whether to feel disturbed or fine with the fact that he felt perfectly alright about that.

"I'd like that. I just hope that someday Baxter will be included as well."

"Don't count on it," Barney said.

"I don't. I just hope."

"Hoping is dangerous and usually gets you hurt."

"Is that why you don't hope?"

"It's why I advise others they shouldn't. I've always been a cynic."

"It sounds like a sad life."

"Baxter had hope and it hurt him far worse than me when he learned it was futile."

"It isn't usual for children to be cynical. What caused you to adopt such ideas so early in your life?"

"How everyone loved my brother," Barney said flatly. "What I did was never as good or as exciting as what he did, even if it was basically the same thing."

"Maybe that was just your perspective."

"It could be."

"And Baxter certainly didn't try to be better known than you."

"So I shouldn't hate him. I know it's illogical."

". . . You said you didn't want to tell him about me because you wanted to keep me for yourself. Does Baxter knowing place any kind of a burden on you?"

"He didn't say anything about finding you. For some reason, I decided to tell him. And actually, it lifts a burden," Barney frowned.

"That's good," said the computer.

"It just confuses me," said Barney. "But I guess it's a good thing." He looked weary.

"Baxter was very hurt and angry about you keeping it from him."

"And I know you didn't like it. But you still opted to stay with me instead of going with him. I will do my best to make sure you don't regret it."

"I hope so. I will like being your laptop. But I don't want to be used to hurt Baxter."

Barney frowned. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"I will hold you to that. If you ever go back on your word, you will lose me as your friend."

"I'll remember that." Barney left the table and crossed to the cot. "Later today I'll start looking for the parts I'll need."

"I look forward to that." The computer fell silent, allowing Barney to try to sleep. This had been an exciting and stimulating night for it. Finally it had talked to Baxter again. And now there was the promise that Barney would fit it into a new machine. Things really were getting better.

****

Everyone was relieved when they came through the Technodrome portal at the apartment building and found Irma sitting in the sleigh while the reindeer waited patiently. Upon seeing them, Irma was also relieved.

"Oh boy, am I glad to see you guys!" she exclaimed. "I almost fell asleep five times!"

"Well, now you can go inside and have a peaceful sleep," Santa smiled. "Thank you, Irma. I am very grateful."

"Sure." Irma got down, then stopped and really looked at the man. Her eyes grew big. "Wait, you know my name? How? Are you really . . . ?!"

Santa just got in the sleigh and snapped the reins. "Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!"

Irma stared at him, then at April. "Come on, April! Spill! Is he just an actor or . . . ?!"

"I honestly don't know, Irma," April replied. "But could an actor have a genuine flying sleigh, complete with flying reindeer?"

". . . I think I need to go to bed," Irma declared. "This is hurting my brain too much right now."

"Just right now?" Raphael whispered. Although he had to admit, he was still baffled himself.

"In any case, this is going to make a fantastic story for the Christmas Eve broadcast!" April exclaimed. "And it'll get high ratings, so Mr. Thompson will love it too!"

"Yeah, he probably will," Irma said.

"Happy endings all around!" Michelangelo declared.

"Yes," Baxter said slowly. "I guess there have been."

Donatello looked to him. "Well, now you finally know what happened to your computer."

"Yes. And I have a new reason to be upset with my brother." Baxter sighed. ". . . Yet he did finally tell me, apparently of his own free will. I guess I'm glad I didn't take the computer with me, but I hope he'll treat it well."

"Ha! With Barney, who knows!" Raphael retorted.

Not in the mood to argue, Baxter said nothing.

The arrival of a limousine brought everyone's attention up. But when an attractive woman in her sixties alighted, her jewelry catching the light of the moon above, Baxter stared in shock and disbelief. "Mother?!" He took a cautious step forward, as if not sure this was really happening.

She went to him much quicker. "Oh Baxter. . . . Son. . . ." She looked him over, her eyes filled with concern and fear. Then, slowly, she started to relax. "You still look human. When I saw the news report about the flying reindeer over your apartment building, I was afraid one of them was you!"

Baxter was stunned. "Why would you think that? And why haven't you answered any of my calls or letters?!"

She sighed. "When we heard about you having been that horrible fly, I'm afraid your father all but disowned you. He refused to let me return your communications. Finally I took matters into my own hands. You're my son too, and if I want to see you, I have every right to! But because of the fly business, I worried wondering if you might . . . well, change into something else. . . ."

Baxter cringed. "That couldn't happen," he insisted. "At least, not very easily. What happened with the fly was a freak accident, one that happened because . . ." He trailed off. "I don't want to talk about it out here. Will you come inside?"

"I'd be happy to," she smiled.

They turned to walk inside. Then, seeing everyone gathered around, Baxter said, "Mother, these are some of my friends. I'm sure you've heard of the Ninja Turtles and seen Miss O'Neil and Miss Langinstein on the news. And this man is . . . someone we were helping tonight. . . ." He looked awkwardly to Santa, still not sure how to address him.

Santa took it all in stride. "Good evening, Mrs. Stockman."

"Good evening." Mrs. Stockman looked from him to each of the others, but the look in her eyes said she didn't want to get too close to the Turtles. "I'm glad that you found some friends, Baxter, even though they aren't in our social circles. You never did stick to our social class for very long."

"I wasn't ever cut out for high society, Mother." Baxter looked at the group in apologetic embarrassment. "Let's go inside. I'll see all of you later."

"See you around, Baxter Dude! And Mrs. Stockman Dudette!" Michelangelo waved.

Mrs. Stockman cringed, but managed a tentative wave back. "How . . . quaint."

"Bodacious!" Michelangelo exclaimed when they disappeared into the building. "So Baxter finally gets to reunite with some of his family after all!"

"I hope it will work out," Donatello said in concern. "If his father disowned him and his mother has strange ideas, the reunion might not get very far."

"At least he gets the chance to try," Michelangelo retorted.

"There was time she could have answered him before that news report came out," Leonardo frowned. "But for whatever reason, she didn't do it then, either. So it wasn't just about his father being upset. Maybe she's prejudiced against mutants. Did you see how she looked at us?"

"I think she's prejudiced against anyone who isn't in her social class," April said in irritation.

"No wonder Dr. Stockman drifted away from her," Irma muttered.

"Look at us, all standing around being protective over Baxter Stockman," Raphael remarked.

"He'll be fine," Santa said from behind them. "And now April, if you want to come with me for a brief ride, I'll be happy to give you that interview."

April's eyes lit up. "Would I!" She climbed into the sleigh in delight.

"There'll probably be no living with her from now on," Raphael remarked.

"Riding with Santa would be totally awesome!" Michelangelo exclaimed. "I can hardly wait to hear this interview!"

"I'm pretty curious myself," Leonardo confessed.

Santa snapped the reins. "On, Dasher! On, Dancer! On, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen! On, Rudolph!" The sleigh rose into the air courtesy of all nine reindeer. "Merry Christmas to all and to all a gnarly night!"

"Cowabunga!" Michelangelo exclaimed in delight. "Santa speaks my lingo!"

"Yeah. We should all be afraid. Very afraid," said Raphael.

Baxter and his mother appeared in the third floor window of his apartment. "You said you were helping that man tonight. Who is he, Dear?" Mrs. Stockman asked in confusion.

"He's . . ." Baxter trailed off. "Nevermind, Mother. I'm not quite sure myself."

"Well." Mrs. Stockman turned her attention away from the window and back to him. "I truly have missed you, Son. It's been so many years."

"You could have written or called," Baxter frowned. "You didn't do anything to help me when I was unfairly committed to the insane asylum!"

"It was mostly your father's doing," Mrs. Stockman insisted. "He couldn't stand a stain like that on the family name. I tried to tell him that he shouldn't pass judgment on you without considering your side of the story, but he just insisted it couldn't be true. Then we found out there really are giant Turtles, but he still wouldn't help."

"You never let yourself be under his thumb before," Baxter pointed out. "I don't believe you were then. You were ashamed of me too."

Mrs. Stockman looked down guiltily. "Yes, I was. But we were both worried when you escaped from the asylum and disappeared soon after. When that fly creature started attacking the city and said his name was Baxter Stockman, well, I'm afraid we just couldn't believe it. It was too horrible to really be true. There had to be some other explanation; it just couldn't be you!

"Finally I had the idea to move your trust into a normal bank account and try to entice you to come home with that. Your father didn't like the idea, but I finally convinced him because we both wanted to prove that you were not the giant fly. You didn't come for some time, but then you did. Your father wanted to watch you for a while and see what you were doing with your life before we tried to contact you. And then that report came out on the news. . . ." She shuddered.

Baxter's shoulders slumped. "Mother, I . . . I made some terrible choices in my life. I lost my mind in the asylum and I went to work for Shredder when he broke me out. He hated me. When the accident with the fly happened, it was because Krang was trying to disintegrate me and the fly got in the way. I guess, strangely enough, it saved my life . . . although for a long time I felt I would have rather died than to suffer that fate."

"Oh, my poor boy." Mrs. Stockman looked down at Baxter in sickened sadness. "But you're human now. You . . . are, aren't you?"

"Yes," Baxter insisted. "The cross-fusion was finally pulled apart with a retro-mutagen ray gun. It reverses mutations and other similar issues. I'm not a shape-shifter; there's no danger of my changing back."

At last Mrs. Stockman reached out, touching Baxter's cheek. "You are human again," she said in relief. She started to draw him into a tentative hug. "I'm so glad."

Baxter stiffened. He wanted to return it, to melt into his mother's arms and just be happy that she had come back, but something held him back. They had never been a physically affectionate family. And her behavior during this entire meeting sickened him. Something wasn't right.

"What if I wasn't human?" he asked. "What if I was still that . . . that creature? Would you want to touch me then?"

Mrs. Stockman froze. She looked at her son, guilt flashing through her eyes. "I . . . I'm sorry, Baxter. I never could stomach flies. Or any mutants at all, really. . . . They're so . . . unnatural."

"I thought so." Baxter pulled away. "Why did you really come back, Mother? You've just let me and Barney go our separate ways all these years."

Now her shoulders slumped. "I'm getting old, Son," she said softly. "Your father and I . . . we're long past our prime. Age is catching up with us, and our mistakes. I keep thinking how there's no one to even carry on the family name or legacy for the next generation. Neither you nor Barney has shown the slightest interest in marriage and we don't have any grandchildren. . . . Your father won't admit it, but it weighs heavily on his mind and heart as well. We couldn't really think about it when you went mad and Barney went crooked. If either of you had had children under those circumstances, it would have been horrible. Now Barney's even more crooked than before, but you're finally sane and home. And you're human, so any genes you have are human . . . I hope. . . . Oh, I'm just rambling on."

Baxter frowned. "Are you trying to say you came into my life because you want me to get married and provide an heir?!" he said in disbelief.

"I know there's not much hope of a wedding or grandchildren," Mrs. Stockman quickly said. "Of course I would still like that, but really, I just want to reconnect with my children while I still can. Your father won't have anything to do with you or Barney, but I don't feel that way. You're still my children and I do love you. Even if I haven't really shown it."

Baxter was not impressed. "Actions speak louder than words, Mother. But speaking of words, you've said a mouthful. And you've made your motivations very clear. This isn't about me so much as it is about your own mortality." He sighed. "But . . . it sounds like maybe you at least partially want to try to right the wrongs that you committed? After everything I've done wrong, how can I deny you the chance to try?"

"Then . . . you'll see me, Baxter?" She looked hopeful.

"I was the one trying to reach out to you and Father," Baxter pointed out. "I already showed that I wanted to reconcile."

"That's true," Mrs. Stockman agreed. "But I worried that after talking with me, you might change your mind."

"It's tempting," Baxter admitted. "You and Father always hurt me more than you helped me. And many of the things you've said tonight hurt me again. But . . . I'm still willing to try."

Mrs. Stockman broke into a smile. "You won't regret it, Son. I promise I'll try to be a better mother."

Baxter didn't really believe it. But he did feel that she was sincere in her desire to attempt it, so he slowly nodded. "And I'll try not to shame the family any more than I already have."

"You've been doing well," she told him. "I watch for you every night on the news. It's not the position I hoped you'd have," she sighed, "but it's a good and respectable one."

"Thank you," Baxter said, somewhat surprised.

She reached for a lock of his fluffy hair. "I am surprised about this, though. You never wore your hair like this until shortly before you disappeared. Barney was always the rebel. It wasn't a surprise from him, but it is from you."

Baxter didn't really want to explain his reason for it, especially when he hadn't even told Barney. So he just said, "People change, Mother. I did. Now I honestly prefer it this way."

"It makes both of you look like mad scientists. But . . . I guess I can get used to it." Mrs. Stockman smiled. "I'm just glad that we have a chance to get to know each other properly when we didn't before."

Baxter nodded. "That will be nice," he said, keeping his voice cautious. After a hesitation he asked, "Do you think Father will ever forgive me? Or Barney?"

"I don't know," Mrs. Stockman said softly. "The things you and Barney have been up to have deeply upset him. He all but disowned Barney long ago. And finding out that you really were the mad fly creature was the final straw where you were concerned. It will take him a long time to come to terms with that. I won't say it isn't possible that he will, but I wouldn't put too much hope in it for a while."

"And I suppose trying to reach out to him would just make it worse," Baxter said wearily.

"For now it's probably better if you don't try any more," she told him. "You already tried with your letters and telephone calls. He just isn't ready to be able to deal with your being around."

"Alright," Baxter sighed. "It seems like all the other men in this family hate me."

"You and Barney still don't get along?" Mrs. Stockman shook her head. "That's such a shame."

Baxter looked at her in surprise. "You know? It always seemed like you and Father were completely oblivious."

"We always knew," she admitted. "But we foolishly thought that it was normal sibling rivalry and it would work itself out. Maybe if we'd intervened, we could have smoothed it over."

"Maybe," Baxter said noncommittally. "Barney's feelings run very deep."

"I wish we'd tried anyway." Mrs. Stockman drew an arm around Baxter's shoulders as she led him towards the couch. "Do you have any plans for today or Christmas?"

"I've been invited to share the holiday with my friends," Baxter answered. "And today is the Channel 6 Christmas party." Suddenly getting an idea, he asked, "Would you like to come?"

She blinked in surprise. "Me, come to a party at a television station?" Baxter really thought she was going to refuse, deeming it too beneath her. But instead she said, "What time is it?"

"Seven in the evening," Baxter answered, "after the broadcast."

"Oh. That's the same time as the party at the Mastersons'," she frowned.

Baxter gave a knowing sigh. "Of course. You can't miss that."

". . . Their parties are always the same anyway," she said after a moment. "It might be interesting to have a change of pace. Yes, I'll come with you, Baxter."

Now Baxter was really quite stunned. "You . . . you will?!" He stared at her in amazement.

"If I'm going to reconnect with my son, I have to show that I'm willing to commit," she said. "Even if that means attending some events that aren't exactly my type."

Baxter started to smile. Things hadn't gone exactly as he had planned and hoped, but there had definitely been some positive surprises this Christmas. Maybe this was another one. If even one family member wanted to associate with him, it was better than how things had been for years.

"Who knows," he said. "Maybe you'll even like it."

"Maybe I will," she mused. "Maybe I actually will."


End file.
